


Fighting Fire With Platypus

by revenblue



Series: [collection] but you keep spinning 'round me just the same (Perryshmirtz) [60]
Category: Phineas and Ferb
Genre: Family Fluff, Gen, Movie Night, POV Second Person, Queerplatonic Relationships, not explicitly but I'mma count it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 14:02:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17265509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revenblue/pseuds/revenblue
Summary: Of course he's on fire. He wouldn't be Heinz if he wasn't.





	Fighting Fire With Platypus

"Perry the Platypus, help me!"

Your nemesis runs around, screaming, and you sigh. Why did he think this was a good idea. Why does he _ever_ think _anything's_ a good idea? Because it never is, and now he's on fire. Again.

All you can do is roll your eyes and casually stroll over to where he keeps the nearest fire extinguisher. There's maybe twenty in the room, "just in case", and they've all seen their fair share of use, because this... it may as well happen every day.

Seriously, what was he thinking _this_ time? Drinkable lava again? (Not his finest moment.) But no, probably not. He may be your- he may be _an_ idiot but he does tend to learn from his mistakes... eventually... and from the scorch marks on his lab coat, it's probably just a miswired inator again. Really, he needs to stop inatoring in his sleep, because this happens every. single. time.

This particular fire extinguisher's comfortable in your paws, heavy, a good weight to swing at his head. Which you've also done more than a few times.

And if you blast him with the fire extinguisher a bit longer than necessary, well, you _are_ his nemesis. It's your job. Well, thwarting him is, but sometimes he needs a good smack upside the head before he proceeds to do something _thwartable_. Or, in this case, during.

Then again, according to the O.W.C.A., everything he does is thwartable somehow.

The point is, he's an idiot, and you (against your better judgement) love him. You have no idea why, but you do. Not that you'd ever tell him that. Asking him to keep a secret is futile at best, and at worst, well. He'd go blabbing to your boss and then you'd be out a job, a family, and a nemesis. None of which you can afford to lose.

"Curse you, Perry the Platypus," he mumbles from the floor, still smouldering, and you allow yourself a smile. It's enough to fight him. He pours his passion, his very _self_ , into his schemes, and he does it all for you. That's love too, isn't it?

Tossing the fire extinguisher aside, you offer him your paw.

He takes it, pulling himself up with a groan. "Ow... that hurt." Then he pouts at you and you roll your eyes. If he thinks he can sweet-talk you into staying...

...then he'd be absolutely right. The things you do for this man.

You roll your eyes and tug him to his feet, because obviously he's incapable of even that. Then, ignoring his grumbling, you drag him along to the couch where he can't set much of anything on fire. Or sulk.

Sulking, you've decided, is a poor pastime when he could be watching a movie with you instead.

"I'm _fine_ , Perry the Platypus," he complains, collapsing onto the couch. The wider one. You always direct him to it in particular, because it's just the right size for the both of you. "You shouldn't worry so much."

You roll your eyes. Like that has anything to do with why you're doing this. You stay because you _want_ to. Because you enjoy the time spent with him, the smile on his face when you lean against his side, his incessant commentary. The only downside to that last bit is that you either watch the movie beforehand, or you resign yourself to missing most of the plot. No in-between.

It's worth the sacrifice, if you're honest.

A flash of a thought crosses his face and he's pushing himself up, the complete opposite of what he _should_ be doing. "Can't watch a movie without _popcorn_ ," he says, standing despite your best efforts to keep him down. "I'll-"

No. He's _not_ making popcorn, not when he's already set himself on fire once today. You won't let him.

He backs down at your growl, slumping back into the chair. "Fine, Perry the _Bossy_ pus, I won't. But remember, this is _your_ \- wait, what are you doing?"

Putting the movie on. What does it look like you're doing?

"Is that the original The Princess Sensibilities from 1963? Come on, you _know_ the remake's better..."

That's not what he said last time. You sigh, for your own benefit, and ignore him. He'll be enthusiastic enough once the movie starts, he always is. Until then, you have a job to do.

Leaning forward, he bats his eyes at you. Here it comes. "While you're up, Perry the Platypus," he says, in that sickeningly sweet tone he _knows_ you can't resist, "be a dear and make us some popcorn?"

For him, anything. You hold your thumb up in acknowledgement, not turning around. He doesn't need to see the fond smile on your face. No need to give him _more_ ammunition to tease you with. He already calls you 'cute' as it is.

"Oh, hey, Perry," Vanessa says when you enter the kitchen, closing the fridge door behind her. "I didn't hear an explosion. Is Dad alright?"

All you can do is shrug. Heinz is... Heinz. He hasn't said anything's wrong, not that it means much. You love the man dearly, but even you can't read him sometimes, with everything he hides behind that bright grin of his. Things he hasn't told you, things he likely never will.

Company helps. You've figured out that much, fighting him. Give him a goal and an audience and it's like a weight's lifted from his narrow shoulders.

She leans against the door with her apple, not quite leaving, while you climb onto the bench where he keeps the popcorn maker. It's not an uncomfortable silence, with the quiet popping beside you and the soft crunching of her apple, but expectancy is thick in the air. "Need anything?" she asks eventually, tapping her nails against the counter, a habit she definitely got from her father.

You roll the question over in your mind. What isn't she saying? She wouldn't have stayed if she didn't want something from you, something she couldn't ask her father for. Which means it's probably _about_ Heinz. As exasperating as she finds him (which you _completely_ understand), she does care. After all, he's...

Family.

Eyebrow raised, you point to her, then to the bowl slowly filling with popcorn, then out to where Heinz is definitely pushing buttons he shouldn't. Will she join you?

"Sure, I'll help you carry it out," she says, giving you a grateful smile. "Thanks, Perry."

Taking the bowl, she joins your nemesis in front of the tv, dropping easily into her usual chair with a familiar thump. Heinz complains, she responds, and you allow yourself a fond smile. Love, it's all love.

The impromptu Doofenshmirtz family movie night isn't complete without the last member of the family, so you move to Norm's closet and throw the door open. A grin lights up Norm's face, both literally and metaphorically, and you know you've made the right choice.

After all, he's part of the family too. Your family. If Heinz complains, which he won't if he knows what's good for him, you'll set him on fire (again) yourself.


End file.
